Let me remember
by TheFlamingMockingjay
Summary: So, i generally suck at summaries. This is a slightly angsty, slightly alternate universe, but not really the latter. Just wait, and I will explain everything. Basically, Dean has a nightmare involving a certain raven-haired angel. Rated T for language


_**So, this was a writing prompt from my english teacher that I had decided to turn into a destiel fanfiction. Please enjoy and review!**_

* * *

I woke up shaking and scared. I never had a dream like that before. The smell of blood was a fresh memory to my nose, and left warm rust on my lips and tongue. With trembling hands, I check my body for any remnants of the subconscious torture I had ensued.

Only when my palms came away clean from anything but my stuttering pulse and a thick accumulation of sweat was I able to breathe normally again._ Just a dream, _I told myself. _Nothing but that. _

Still, the task of getting the image of that man in the grungy trench coat was the most impossible thing I had faced in a long time. I just couldn't shake the mental image of the way he had stood amongst the hellfire like a warrior or hero of some sort and raised me to the safe world of reality. Well, the _safer _world. It was almost like he was a-

_No. _I could not go there, not even think it. After what had happened to Mom, how could I even dream of something so perpetually unattainable? Next thing I knew, I'd be chasing after the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

My drifting thoughts were disrupted by the sound cheap bedsprings make when someone shifts on them. "Dean?" the familiar voice called out.

I feigned sleepiness as I answered him in the most irritated voice I could manage. "What?"

I felt the words he wanted to say to me but was too scared. The long pause said it all. After what seemed like the longest eternity, he finally inquired a small "I heard you cry out, and, well, are you-?"

I cut him off as tiredness seeped slowly into my voice. "I'm fine. Go back to bed, Sammy." The fact that I for once managed to sound how I actually felt, both exhausted and gratuitous for his worry, was a small victory.

He obliged, mumbling something under his breath appearing to be "don't call me that" and punctuating it with a long yawn. Within moments, the sound of even breathing was a soft soundtrack to my tired brain.

Tugging the rough comforter around my still-aching chest, I aimed for sleep. I tried everything in the book to fall back asleep. Dammit, I had even resorted at the last minute to counting those fucking sheep. Still, zilch is what my tired body was left with.

Screw you, little Bo Peep.

Just as I'm about to go into detail about the possibility of pursuing such an action, I heard the sliding of glass on glass and sprung up and out of bed, gun already in hand. Pointing it at the window, I glanced around at my surroundings. I put my guard down after a few silent and still moments, only to hear the low screech of a drawer being tugged open.

Whirling around so fast I get a little lightheaded, I pointed the barrel of a gun at the offender. With a loud snap, he closed the motel bible he was reading and turned to meet my gaze with his deep blue one. "You wouldn't believe how many inaccuracies there are in the modern representation of my father's word." With a sad shake of his head, he gives me a small smile. "Hello, Dean."

_Him. _It's that man from my dream, the one who had rescued me from god-knows-what. How could this be? It was a dream and that's all. What else could it have been?

My mind's still racing with various possibilities as I readjusted my aim at his chest. "Who are you?"

"Put the gun down, Dean." His voice was incredibly calm for a man about to be shot.

"Answer the question!" I snapped in as quiet as a voice, careful not to wake my little brother.

With a deep sigh that sounded it like carried the weight of many nations, he set the bible down. "I'm Castiel, angel of the lord."

Every bone in my body melted into iron as his words rand soundlessly in my ear. "No," I say, my voice hoarse with disbelief. "That's not possible. There's no such thing."

In one unbelievably fluid movement, he grabbed the gun from my hand and tossed it silently onto the bed, which was far out my reach. My eyes went wide with shock and he shrugged, chuckling a bit. "Sorry, firearms make me nervous."

Weaponless in every possible way, I decided I had nothing to lose and plopped down on my bed. Watching with weird amusement, I saw him lean over and flick it to the floor. I could practically hear his gravelly voice pronounce "Sorry. Couldn't take any chances."

Rubbing the back of my neck, I gave him a wary look. "So, you're not shitting me? You're actually a bona fide member of the god squad?"

Cas smiled a strange grin that, if I was reading it correctly, was the kind of look you'd give your child or spouse- it dripped with that unconditional love I had only received occasionally. "You don't know how good it is to hear that." He said softly before sobering up and nodded. "Yes, Dean. It's true, all true.

The shock had passed and instead I was left with a deep confusion. "But, if you're an angel, why do you care about _me_? I'm nothing special."

There was that damned smile again- I had had it up to here with that friggin' charmed grin of his- as he tilted his head to the side, something that reeked of age-old habit. "You're much more important than you'd believe, Dean."

The notion that I was worth anything in the grand scheme of things was too difficult to believe. I had been called a lot of things in my lifetime. Scumbag. Pompous Dick. Asshole. Plus a lot of other much more vulgar things. But, important? That was one thing I had never even been referenced to.

Something was stuck in the back of my mind. "Why were you in my dream, by the way?"

Castiel gave me a confused look. "What dream?"

"You know, the one where I'm being tortured and-" I trailed off because there were honestly no words that could possibly describe what I had undergone in that nightmare of mine. "Anyways, you just appeared and pulled me out of there."

He growled and wrung his hands. "You weren't supposed to see that, Dean. Then again, Gabriel has always been a rule breaker."

"Wait, you mean the archangel Gabriel?"

"Yes."

The conversation fell into a comfortable lull as we both sat and looked at our hands and our surroundings. All I could thing was _man, I could get used to this. _Seeing my very own beautiful angel every. Sitting and having long talks with him through the night. I had never been sappy about anyone, but for Castiel-

What the hell? Where did that come from? I was _straight, _for crying out loud!

Clearing my throat and reflecting on the easy way which he had maneuvered the gun away from such a skilled hunter as myself, I rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the angel. "So, where'd you learn how to disarm someone so quickly? They teach you that in holy school?"

"Y'know, they tried to teach me that, and I was able to defend myself pretty effectively, but it wasn't until a certain hunter helped me that it really caught on." The light in his eyes was begging- pleading, really- for me to catch on to what he was saying.

Thankfully, I wasn't as stupid as people liked to make me out to be. With wide eyes and a slack jaw, I pointed at myself. "_I _taught you, a friggin' angel of the lord?" When I had received a sight nod in return, I shook my head in disbelief. That night was just crazy. Seriously, how could any of this have been possible? "So, you know future me, huh? Am I still crazily attractive and awesome?" I began to let a crazy grin stretch harmlessly across his face, because, let's be honest, too much of this mental-ward cuckoo-for-cocoa-puffs talk was getting to my head.

Castiel took a long deep breath, and closed those deep blue eyes that had begun to drip with pain. "You were one of the best people I know."

It took me a minute to realize why he was reacting so severely to those little words. "Were? Does that mean I'm-?" I tried my damnedest to finish that sentence, but my voice had begun to falter and I realized that I was this close to having a little chick flick moment of my own.

Folding his head in his hands, he wiped away any nonexisting tears that may have been there and gave me the saddest face I'd seen in a long time. And, that included all the times I'd had to tell Sammy we were out of Lucky Charms. "I'm sorry, Dean."

I frowned a bit. "Wait, why are you sorry? What happened to me?"

"I can't tell you."

"Was it a vampire? Wendigo? Some vengeful spirit?" When the only reply was a small shake of the head, I raised my voice. "Dammit, Castiel!" However, the stirring of my little brother told me to lower it down a little. "Please, please, just tell me what happened."

With the hung head of a condescended child, he sighed. "You. You did it to yourself." He looked up at me with tears streaming down his face. "All the signs were there, every single one of them, but I was too busy worrying about my own damned problems and didn't notice them until it was too late. There were just some things a man couldn't carry alone. And no matter how many different ritual and methods I try, I can't find a way to bring you back."

The strong, charming angel that had shown up in my dreams and hotel room was now replaced with a broken man with heaving shoulders and wet cheeks. Without controlling myself, I automatically wrapped my arm around him. It was just such a natural thing to do. "Hey, I didn't know angels could curse," I said jokingly and he looked up at me with watery eyes, obviously thankful for my company and piss-poor humor.

What happened next seemed like it was in slow motion. He grabbed my face and mashed my lips roughly with his. It was a frantic kiss that left me out of breath. Surprisingly, I didn't push away at all. In fact, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't let my hands wander a little. So, when we finally came up for air, I was supremely in shock.

He smiled at me. "I had to do that just once."

When he raised his hand after a few silent moments, I didn't know what to expect. "What are you doing, Cas?"

"You can't remember any of this."

I jumped from my relaxed position by his side into a standing position. "What the hell do you mean, I can't remember any of this? You can't just friggin' wipe my memory." At the time it wasn't understandable why I was so distraught at the looming possibility of forgetting this. In fact, I should have been fucking _thrilled _to never be able to recall on the wack-job events of that night. So, why did the mere mention of this action fill me to the very core with panic?

He stood by me. "Actually, Dean, I can. And, I have to. Just imagine, if you had any idea what would one day happen to you, the entire stitching of reality would be completely altered, you understand me? I can't let you mess with the role you're meant to play."

He had a valid point, but I wasn't about to give up. "Ever heard of free will, you son of a bitch?"

With speed that was far quicker than when he had first arrived, he pinned me up against the nearest wall with but one arm, and I couldn't wiggle nor fight my way out of his grip, no matter how hard I tried. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this." He raised a hand to my head, tenderly tracing my hairline before touching the middle of my forehead with a hand that was both rough and soft at the same time.

Sam sat on his bed as he scarfed down a packaged muffin. Brushing the crumbs off of his shirt, he fixed me with a look. "Hey, Dean, you alright?"

I sat by him and ruffled his hair a bit. "Well, I am getting a bit queasy. But, that's just from looking at your face too long."

He shoved my shoulder. "I'm being serious. You woke me up with a bad dream last night."

I tried to remember if what he was saying was true, but I drew up no memories of such a nightmare. "Are you sure?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "You did, that I'm sure of." He shrugged. "You must have blocked it out or something."

Yeah. That's it. I must have blocked it out of my mind. Because I couldn't recall one goddamned thing, and it was beginning to bother me. Shaking it out of my thoughts, I stood up and shouldered my backpack. "Well, come on. First day at a new school."

He sighed and gave me a puppy dog look. "Aw, do we have to?"

I rolled my eyes and threw his bag at him, feeling proud when it whacks him in the stomach and causes him to let out a loud _oomph. _"Yes, Sammy, you know you have to." I used my no-shitting-around voice, which prompted him to follow me out of the hotel room door, after checking the salt lines, of course.

He kicked the back of my shoes as we walked to the impala. "Don't call me that."

I smiled at this. Because, as strange as it may have seemed, little things like this were memories I'd cherish for the rest of my life.

We both climbed into my baby, and, as I was shutting my door, I noticed a handsome man in a trench coat standing near our hotel room, a sad expression on his face. But, when I did a double take, he was gone.


End file.
